


Homesick

by imagining_supernatural



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Homesick, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, failure in the kitchen, platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 02:10:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11704632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagining_supernatural/pseuds/imagining_supernatural
Summary: You’ve been feeling off lately, but can’t quite put your finger on it





	Homesick

          “Hey Y/N. Glad to see you’re still alive.”

          “Whatever, Dean,” you muttered and shuffled toward the fridge in search of comfort food. You weren’t sure what was wrong, but you knew that you felt off. Something was going on with you and you couldn’t put your finger on it.

          So you did what you always did when you didn’t understand how you were feeling and sequestered yourself away until you got your shit together.

          However, you ran out of your stash of food in your room, so you finally had to emerge and face the boys for however long it took for you to find something to eat.

          “We need to make a supply run,” Sam piped up. He and Dean were sitting at the kitchen table doing who knows what.

          “Great.” Just what you needed. No food.

          “What’s up with you?” Dean asked point-blank.

          “Dean,” Sam admonished.

          “What?”

          “No, Sam. It’s okay.” You padded over and slouched in a chair, pulling your knees up to your chin and wrapping your arms around your legs. “I don’t know what’s going on. Just, kinda, wanna be alone, I guess?”

          That wasn’t quite right. Saying it out loud crossed that off the list of possible reasons why you were so down.

          “You don’t seem too sure about that,” Sam noted. He eyed you closely, apparently completely over his reservations about prying into your life now that you opened up a little.

          “I don’t know.”

          “Anything we can do?” Dean asked.

          Both Winchesters were watching you with such concern that you couldn’t help but feel touched. For the first time in a few days, you felt a warmth coming from your heart. “Thanks, but I don’t even know how to help myself.”

          Dean slapped the table suddenly and stood up. “Get dressed. You’re coming on the supply run with us.”

          “What? No.” You hadn’t even left your room for three days. He thought you would leave the bunker?

          “Fine. You can go to town smelling like a raccoon died in your hair.”

          He pulled you out of your chair and started dragging you toward the door. After a few days of minimal movement, it took you a moment to remember how to fight back.

          “I do _not_ smell like a—” You raised your arm and sniffed at your armpit. The stench hit you and you winced. “Okay. Fine. I smell like a raccoon died in my hair. But I’m not leaving the bunker. You can make the supply run.”

          The brothers shared a look. You knew what was going to happen. They were on the same page and wouldn’t stop until you gave in. Whatever you were feeling that had trapped you in your room had also taken the motivation and fight out of you.

          “Alright, fine,” you gave in before they even started arguing with you. “Give me half an hour to shower and find a bra.”

* * *

          The bright fluorescent lights of the grocery store hurt your eyes. The majority of the time you spent locked away in your room had been with the lights off and your iPod blaring in your ears. To suddenly be thrust back into the real world was extremely discordant.

          “You’re cooking this week, right?” Sam asked Dean hopefully.

          The thought of a home-cooked meal made your mouth water. Just the memory of your mom’s special pot roast cooked with potatoes and carrots had your stomach growling. And her homemade pizza… To die for.

          Dean slung his arm around your shoulder, the unexpected weight making you stumble. “Sure. I’ll make whatever Y/N wants.”

          “I don’t care. If it’s food, I’ll eat it.” No one could make food quite like your mom could. Though your dad came in a close second. The things he could do with a grill.

          “Seriously. Pick something. Sam always picks rabbit food.”

          “Eggrolls, alfredo, I _really_ don’t care.” You caught sight of the snack aisle and headed over. Comfort food. There were your Oreos, pretzels, gummy bears, even the fruit wraps that you used to love as a kid. You were grabbing a handful of the fruit wraps when it hit you.

          “I’m… homesick,” you mumbled, staring at your childhood treat.

          “What was that?” Dean came up behind you.

          You straightened and turned to face the Winchesters. “I figured it out. What’s been wrong with me the last few days. I’m homesick. That’s why I’ve been so weird lately.”

          “Homesick? But you _are_ home. The bunker is your home.” Dean just didn’t get it. Sam, on the other hand, was watching you thoughtfully. He seemed more open to the idea.

          “I miss my parents, and my old room. That big oak tree in the front yard. I miss my dad’s hugs and how my mom smelled when she got ready for a night out. I’m homesick for the past, Dean. A simpler time.”

          His mouth opened and closed a few times as he tried to come up with a response.

          “I’ll get over it,” you shrugged. “Why don’t you two go get the rest of the food? I’ll be here trying to figure out how much junk food I can eat before I start hating myself for being too unhealthy. Come get me when you’re done.”

* * *

           The dry acrid smell wafted through the hallways of the bunker. You followed your nose to the kitchen where Sam and Dean were gathered around the stove.

          “I don’t think we did that right,” Sam said flatly.

          “You think? Deborah said the crust should be lightly browned. This is…”

          “Burnt,” Sam finished for Dean.

          Deborah? Why were they talking about your mom?

          “What’s going on?” you asked slowly, not sure if you actually wanted to know the answer. “What did you burn?”

          They spun around guiltily, using their bodies to hide the contents of the oven from you. “Uh… we were trying a new recipe, but—“

          “What recipe?”

          Dean nudged Sam, who gave his older brother a dirty look. After a moment though, Sam answered. “Homemade pizza. It didn’t turn out like—like we thought it would.”

          “You mean like my mom said it would?” You narrowed your eyes at them. “Why were you talking about her?”

          “Because we called her,” Sam sighed, stepping away from the charred remains of the pizza and dropping into a chair. “We wanted to give you a piece of your home to help you get over your homesickness, so we had Charlie hack your mom’s number. She told us that you liked her pizza recipe and we thought we would give it a try.”

          You glanced back and forth between both bashful Winchester men and your cheeks dimpled as the corners of your mouth quirked up. Just the thought that the Winchesters put into trying to help you seemed to soothe some of your jangled nerves from the last few days.

          When you’d started hunting with them a few years back, they hadn’t gone out of their way to do anything for you. If you couldn’t keep up, then you would get left behind. But since you _could_ keep up, they slowly adopted you.

          And now they went so far as to call your mom and get her advice on how to help you get out of your funk. Words couldn’t describe how thankful you were that they were a part of your life.

          “Did you let the dough rise?” You made your way over to look at the disaster on a cookie sheet.

          “You have to let the dough rise?” Dean asked, looking closely at the lump of a pizza.

          “Yeah. C’mon, I’ll show you guys. Get everything out again.”

          Sam jumped out of the chair and headed to the cabinet with the baking supplies. Once everything was laid out on the table, you paused for a moment and took everything in.

          “Thank you guys. You’re… pretty awesome.” Complimenting them would only go to their heads, but sometimes you had to put up with that. There was no way you were ending today without them knowing just how much they meant to you.

          Sam grinned and glanced at Dean. Another voiceless conversation passed between them and they converged on you, wrapping you up between them.

          “What are yo—oh. Okay. We’re hugging now,” you said in a voice muffled by Sam’s shirt.

          Dean’s arms tightened around you and you squeaked as you were squished even more. “We think you’re pretty awesome too, Y/N.”

          “And you can be homesick for your parents, but we want you to know that this is your home too. We’re your family.” Finally they took small steps back and you could breathe again. Sam kept his giant hands on your shoulders, eyes piercing yours. “You know that, right?”

          A rush of affection overtook you and you grabbed Sam’s hand in one of yours and Dean’s with your other. “Yeah. I know.”


End file.
